


Nightmares and Dreamscapes

by Legal_Assassin



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Character Study, Drama, Dreams, Fade, Gen, Lost in Dreams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-17 10:42:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4663608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legal_Assassin/pseuds/Legal_Assassin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trapped by Sloth in the Fade, the Warden must escape their dream.</p><p>A retelling of the Warden's dream/nightmare in the "Lost in Dreams" quest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aedan Cousland

**Author's Note:**

> So I was going to do more DA prompts in between working on APITB, but then remembered this fic I've wanted to do. I always thought the beginning of "Lost in Dreams" felt a bit weak; they could've incorporated more of the character's origin into their dream rather than a generic "you're in Weisshaupt now." After all, they did it for the "Test of Faith" quest.
> 
> It worked out well this way; these chapters are shorter to write than the prompt fills I want to work on, so I can get these done and work on the next chapter of APITB faster. Plus, Origins needs a bit more love from me.
> 
> So yeah, each chapter will be for a different origin. Enjoy! And, as always, constructive criticism is welcome!

Aedan’s eyes snapped open and he sprang up, ready to take on the Sloth demon. But instead of a cold stone floor littered with corpses and fleshy growths, he found himself in a soft, warm bed with someone – a very _womanly_ someone – lying next to him.

Heart still racing and sweat still dripping down his forehead, Aedan looked over at his companion. Iona was beginning to stir, probably because of Aedan’s sudden movement.

“Is something wrong?” She asked, adjusting her position.

“I… no. Just…” _Howe’s betrayal, his entire family dead, the Warden dragging him away from his parents, the beacon going up, Loghain’s betrayal, the darkspawn falling upon him and Alistair._ “… A bad dream. That’s all.” He rubbed his eyes. “It felt real, though.”

There was a knock at the door and his mother’s voice called through. “Aedan, you’d best come out if you want to say goodbye to your father.”

“Give me a moment!” Aedan shouted back, wincing as Iona blinked wearily. “Sorry. We’ll talk later, if that’s alright.” He threw his clothes on as fast as possible, hopping out the door while pulling on a boot.

Strange… Dane wasn’t in Aedan’s room. The mabari always slept in his room. _Maybe someone let him out?_ Aedan thought groggily. He was sure Dane came into the bedroom with him and Iona after they… well, Dane came into the room when they were asleep, anyways. Aedan thought so, at least.

He could figure it out later. Now, he needed to see his father before he and Arl Howe left for Ostagar.

Something about the way to the entrance hall felt slightly off, but Aedan couldn’t put his finger on it. He chalked it up to his still-waking mind.

Bryce stood armed and armored at the entrance. He was speaking with Eleanor, possibly last-minute good-byes. Orianna and Oren stood by them.

Aedan felt his eyes prickle with tears. It had all been a terrible dream, then. Howe didn’t betray his family. His parents, his sister-in-law, his nephew… all were alive. Teyrn Loghain didn’t betray the king. Cailan was alive and Ferelden was still ready to face the Blight. Fergus wasn’t lost to the Wilds or the darkspawn.

He strode up to his family and drew his parents into a tight hug.

His father chuckled. “You haven’t given a hug like this since you were a child.” He commented.

“If you’re trying to avoid answering why you were… with company…” Eleanor was trying to watch what she said around Oren.

Aedan let out a short laugh. He didn’t care about his mother scolding him, even welcomed it. “It just feels like ages since I last saw either of you.” He said. He didn’t want to bring up the dream. He would seem hysterical and besides, it would be in bad taste to mention the Arl’s role in it.

“Well, hopefully you won’t be this broken up in the coming weeks, considering that I’ll be gone for months.” Bryce said. “You have to take care of the castle and your family in the meantime.”

“I understand, Father.” Aedan said. “Just… be careful out there?”

Bryce smiled. “I will, Aedan.”

Aedan froze. There had been very few times in his life when his father called him by name. Unless his father was disappointed or angry or fearful – when Aedan had failed to do what had been entrusted to him, when he had embarrassed a visiting Bann with a prank, or when he had fallen out of a tree when he was a child – he _never_ called his son “Aedan.” It was always—

“Pup.” The word was forced out of Aedan’s tightened throat.

Bryce frowned. “What?”

“That’s what you always call me…” And now everything fell into place, like a horrifying puzzle. Dane was missing. There was no one along the halls where there should’ve been guards or servants. And now the person or thing in front of him, masquerading as his father, slipped up. Aedan hadn’t woken up. “That’s what my father called me.”

“I am your—“

“No.” Aedan felt the weight of his armor resettle on him. He held the Cousland sword in one hand and the dagger in the other. “You’re not. This isn’t real.”

The fake Eleanor placed a hand on his shoulder. “Darling, don’t do this.” She urged. “There’s nothing for you outside. Stay here and be happy.”

Aedan jerked her hand off, stepped back, and pointed his dagger at the imposter’s throat. “I am a Grey Warden. And I am the last of the Couslands.” He struggled to keep his voice even. “I vowed to protect Ferelden from the Blight, whatever the cost. I swore to take revenge on Arl Rendon Howe for his crimes, no matter what. And you are in my way.” He swallowed. “Don’t make me watch you die again.”

The fake Eleanor’s face contorted in rage. “Very well, mortal.” She spat in an inhuman voice. “You will have the war and death you seek.” She lunged at him, arms outstretched, and out of the corner of his eye Aedan could see the fake Bryce, Orianna, and Oren doing the same. He gripped his weapons and…

He made it quick.

Aedan panted, fighting down the nausea and to keep his body from shaking. There were no bodies… Thank the Maker for small mercies. He didn’t think he could handle seeing his family’s corpses again, imposters or not.

He waited for his heart to stop pounding against his chest and for the nausea to past. Once he had control of his limbs again, he walked toward the pedestal that had appeared in the room. He needed to find the others and leave this place. The mages and Ferelden couldn’t afford to wait for him.


	2. Imoen Amell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a pretty crappy week. Couldn't do a lot of writing, and I'm not good doing longer stuff when I'm stressed. So I'm going to finish this fic before continuing APITB.

“...so then he ends up running around the room in circles, trying to put out the fire, until one of the senior enchanters puts it out.” The demon wearing Jowan’s face said. “You should’ve seen his arse afterwards.”

  
“I can imagine.” Imoen smiled at the image, despite herself. They were walking through a Fade construct of the Circle library, observing the apprentices and their mentors practicing. “It’s that sort of thing that makes me nervous about taking on an apprentice.”

  
“You’ll do fine.” Not-Jowan soothed. “You’re one of the best mages I know. You’ll get the hang of it.”

  
“I hope you’re right.”

  
Imoen knew exactly where she was. She knew that the real Jowan wore blood-stained apprentice robes, not clean enchanter robes like the ones she wore now. She knew that the hallways were covered in blood, fleshy growths, and corpses, not freshly clean. She knew that the Templars were waiting for reinforcements to perform the Rite of Annulment, not calmly guarding the hallways. She knew the surviving mages were either hiding, captured, or turning what was her home upside-down.

  
She knew she was a Grey Warden, not a full-fledged mage about to take on her first apprentice.

  
And yet, this dream was so beautiful in its simplicity. There was no Blight to gather forces against, no darkspawn to fight. The king wasn’t dead and there was no traitor hunting her down. Her friend wasn’t the blood mage who poisoned Arl Eamon. The Circle wasn’t in shambles, wasn’t in danger. She had a warm bed, good food, and a simpler purpose.

  
Strange, how a place that once felt like a prison could fill Imoen with comfort now. After weeks experiencing the outside world, she realized she had taken the comforts of the Circle for granted. And even if it was for a short while, she wanted some happiness after everything that she had been through.

  
She stretched, a happy smile on her face.

  
“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Not-Jowan asked.

  
“Oh… nothing.” Imoen said. “It’s just… everything’s good now.”

  
Not-Jowan smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. What matters is that you’re happy.”

  
Imoen hummed in contentment.

  
They were walking through the chapel now. The placement of the Circle rooms in the Fade was odd, but Imoen found no reason to complain.

  
And then she spotted one of the initiates cleaning the floors, a red-headed woman. From the back, she looked a lot like…

  
Leliana.

  
Imoen stopped where she was, ignoring Not-Jowan’s questioning.

  
Leliana had a similar life; she had quiet, comfort, and a place for contemplation. She could’ve stayed with the Chantry, could’ve ignored the Grey Wardens who wandered into Lothering. She could’ve completely forgotten about the life she led before becoming a lay sister.

  
But she didn’t. Instead, Leliana implored Imoen to let her come along, to help stop the Blight. Whether the Maker had sent her a vision or not, she believed she could help save people. People who were trapped in the Circle, at the mercy of demons and possibly Templars. People who were waiting in a village for the undead horror plaguing them to pass. People who were waiting in the castle, anxious for any news that could save an innocent boy.

  
People who were counting on Imoen.

  
Electricity crackled in the air around her hand.

  
“Imoen? What’s—“

  
She dispatched Not-Jowan with a lightning bolt, along with the other disguised demons who charged at her afterwards.

  
A font appeared in the room afterwards. It was probably a way out of this part of the Fade. A good place to start if she was going to find a way to break out of the Sloth demon’s prison and save the Circle. Imoen went to it.

  
The others were counting on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> F!Tabris is next.

**Author's Note:**

> I just realized that I'm not a very happy writer; everything I write is angsty or even melodramatic. Then again, comedy isn't my strong-suit, so maybe it works out.
> 
> Next up is F!Amell.


End file.
